


Let me learn ya somethin'

by 4jaewoo, filesfolder



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: AKA, Bottom Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, Established Relationship, Finger Sucking, Fingers in Mouth, Grinding, Idiots in Love, Lapdance, M/M, PWP, Teasing, Top Lee Taeyong, dotae rings, doyoung says fuck, taeyong calls him baby, there's a juicebox, they're engaged!, unauthorized blushing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27395041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4jaewoo/pseuds/4jaewoo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/filesfolder/pseuds/filesfolder
Summary: They stare at each other for a moment, then Taeyong is wiggling his eyebrows up at his his fiancé, lips still closed around the plastic, sipping up the juice way too cutely for the situation. The younger couldn't help the scoff that escaped, but he wiggled his nose in response anyway before turning around—because fine, Doyoung decides, if Taeyong thinks this is funny, he'll simply make it hilarious.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 24
Kudos: 248





	Let me learn ya somethin'

He was supposed to be home alone, so he stares at where Taeyong's physical form occupies the front door entrance with confusion.

And, oh yeah, sure, _most definitely_ , is he dreading the moment the Wave of Absolute Mortification (yes, it's a noun, yes the emphasis is necessary) that is about to hit the shoreline, of course he is, because he's pretty damn (as in, 100%) sure, that his soon to be husband just caught him pretend strip tease dancing with the mop. The Mop.

But, it hasn't hit yet, so he stares, and Taeyong stares back... so, he stares some more.

There's probably a storm warning, going off in the percentage of his brain he can't access as a mortal human being that doesn't do yoga or meditation or any of those chakra aligning exercises, but he can tell the signs sure enough. He swallows in the silence and his throat takes it's content with slight protest because it's actually a _boulder,_ and it's headed straight for his stomach. But the wave still hasn't hit.

And then Taeyong laughs. Like, _really fucking laughs_ , full bodied, mouth open wide, _loud as hell,_ bunched over himself in their front door entryway, arms around his stomach, door open, letting all the bugs in, and every bit of Doyoung's dignity out.

The boulder breaks, spilling it's cargo of a million butterflies. They flap around his stomach with enough excitement to make him queasy and the tingling seemingly going nowhere but everywhere on his face—he's _blushing_ , bright fire engine fucking red, absolutely mortified as he drops the mop and stomps over to Taeyong like the whole ordeal was _his_ fault in the first place.

"What the _fuck_? Why are you _home_? Taeyong, stop _laughing_ -" He's not whining—scratch that—he doesn't mean to whine, but Taeyong was supposed to be at _work_ , aka not at home, aka not interrupting Doyoung's "me time" as he cleans the house, doing the same ritual he's been doing for the last 4 months of living in the same shared space as his fiancé.

Obviously this was a mistake, obviously he'd missed some giant cosmic clue about the consequences he'd face by living in an area where Taeyong had access to the key—obviously he needed to take up yoga or Pilates, or get a fucking _cowbell._ "I want a divorce, seriously Taeyong, I'm signing the papers,"

There's tears in Taeyong's eyes, and he's still giggling, more out of breathlessness than anything having to do with being a good husband to be and taking pity on _his_ husband to be enough to stop laughing, but Doyoung has learned to take what he can get and complain when he doesn't get what he wants. He pouts.

"You'd need to sign the marriage papers first in order to do that," He's still giggling when he leans in to peck Doyoung's pout, so much so that Doyoung can feel his teeth when he pecks his cheek, too. "Hi, baby."

He smiles with his eyes, pretty teeth on display, and it's so pure and genuine, that Doyoung almost forgives him. "I'm not forgiving you. Let's get married now so that I can divorce you right after."

"Sure," Taeyong easily shrugs, kicking off his shoes and slipping on the dumb (read: adorable) wolf slippers Yuta had gotten him for Christmas last year. (Doyoung's matching bunny pair are on his own feet) "What name should we put on your certificate? Kim Doyoung or, your working name, Playboy Bunny?"

Taeyong walks past Doyoung with such a straight look plastered on his face, Doyoung actually considered it as a real question. For all of two seconds.

 _Only_ _two_ —unsurprisingly, The Wave has come for a second hit, and Doyoung hasn't had enough time to rectify a proper defense. Taeyong's already cackling to himself as he enters the threshold to the kitchen, so changing tactics, Doyoung takes the weapon closest to him that will deal the least amount of physical damage (but highest amount of emotional satisfaction), and chucks a throw pillow right at the back of Taeyong's head.

It hits its target, but sadly, Taeyong only laughs harder amongst it's impact.

Doyoung sighs, resigning for now as he grabs the mop again. This is _so_ not going on the scoreboard.

"Why aren't you wearing pants, by the way?"

He doesn't follow Taeyong into the kitchen, traitorous territory as it now is, so he pretends to be busy finishing up the mopping job in the livingroom, pants now equipped, blush still fully locked and loaded, as he listens to Taeyong rustle though the fridge.

"You know maybe if you had come home when you were supposed to, dinner would be made."

"Yeah? Sure you wouldn't have been too distracted playing out your stripper fantasies?" Calls back to him, voice light and sing-songy because apparently Doyoung's turmoil makes him _happy._

Had Doyoung's face not already been burning, it'd be steaming with enough pressure that the only sound he'd be able to make is a poor mockery of a ready tea kettle.

Instead, he takes a breath—inhales deeply, just like the youtube ads told him to do on his nightly binge watching of TROS clips—and exhales through his mouth. He can be calm, he can be level headed.

"Fuck you."

He _can_ be, sure, but this is _Taeyong_ we're talking about, and his life's mission since they met, has been to get on every single one of Doyoung nerves and see how long it takes Doyoung to shake him off. Doyoung will not go down quietly—it's probably why they've gone and done something truly drastic, like get engaged.

Taeyong comes back into the livingroom, himself now fully equipped with a juicebox and his shirt untucked from his pants. He's shaking his head, dramatic, tsking around the straw as he takes his seat into the cushions of the couch.

"Now, is that anyway to talk to your client?"

"Get out. If we're getting a divorce, we really shouldn't be living together anymore."

"Babyyy," He whines it in much the same way he whines " _doie_ " when he wants to buy something truly useless that he knows Doyoung wouldn't approve of, like rubber ducks for the _kitchen_ _sink_ , and not the _bathtub,_ or a lifetime's stock a sweet potato snacks . "Dance for me."

Doyoung pauses.

What the fuck?

Doyoung unpauses.

"No."

Taeyong smiles for some reason, straw back in his mouth, Doyoung watching as the white plastic becomes dark with the liquid that Taeyong happily drinks up.

"Why not? I'm sexy."

Taeyong's in a good mood, mostly evident with the way he complements himself and doesn't immediately retract with "jk." Doyoung doesn't think he wants to know why.

"You're drinking a fucking juicebox, you're the exact image of unsexy."

Taeyong just shrugs, tilting his head, very slowly, and very deliberately, spreads his legs open as an obvious invite. "Just one little dance? I want to see my bunny in action."

Doyoung grimaces so he doesn't shiver, wishing the mop hadn't magically disappeared from his hands again so he has some some sort of anchor. He sees it on the floor to the left of his feet. He allows himself to feel jealous of the mop, as well as the absolute rush of anguish he gets from allowing himself to identify with an inanimate cleaning object right after.

He focuses back on his fiancé.

"You can't be serious,"

"I am." Taeyong says, easy as that, smile still in place as he takes another sip from his juicebox. His eyes glint with more mischief than any sort of real sexual intent, and honestly, he really does look absolutely ridiculous, making such a request with a juicebox in his hand, but Doyoung still finds the familiar feeling of his face burning under Taeyong's gaze. "Alexa, play Beyoncé's Dance for You."

Taeyong couldn't even finish the request without giggling around the straw clamped between his teeth, but his eyes never leave Doyoung's — his expression becoming more and more amused as he watches his fiancé's skeptical expression turn to one of betrayal as the song actually begins to filter through their livingroom. What did he expect, really.

But Doyoung doesn't move, even if it's difficult through Beyonce's tempting persuasion — he couldn't let Taeyong have this win. Instead, he digs his heels in, crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow.

"A bit cliché, don't you think?

"Says the one dancing in the livingroom with a mop and no pants on."

Doyoung blanches, before blooming that _same_ bright blush, that had finally begun to fade through their banter, stuttering at having been caught red-handed. He didn't want to get bleach on his favorite jeans, so he had taken them off as he cleaned. Now they were back on, like armor against Taeyong's judgmental gaze.

"I am _fully dressed_ ," He hisses under his breath like it's a secret (he's in a _sweater vest_ , for fucksake)—and Taeyong actually looks around the livingroom as if to ask who the fuck he's whispering for, but Doyoung cuts his antics off with his next huff— "-and you were supposed to be at work!"

"What, and continue letting you have all the fun to yourself? How selfish." Taeyong says, sighing with a dramatic shake of his head. Doyoung actually saw the gears turning in his mullet covered head before Taeyong's lips turned into a pout. It was ugly (read: adorable) and utterly fake; Taeyong only turning to this particular trick because it annoys Doyoung when he does so (it was _Doyoung's_ trick after all, one Taeyong took immense pleasure in, by the way). Taeyong took another long sip of his juicebox just because he likes the way Doyoung's eye twitches when he does that, too.

In the silence, Beyoncé is the buffer between them, both listening as she sings about being loyal and patient and Taeyong thinks no matter how cliché it is, it's a song that fits the two of them perfectly, sexy dance involved or not. But — he's a man on a mission.

"Well?" Taeyong teases when the chorus hits, raising an eyebrow back at Doyoung as he spreads his legs just a little wider.

It's cocky and all forms of misplaced _cheesy_ , but it does the trick, because Taeyong breaks into an all out laugh as Doyoung rolls his eyes before actually making his way over to him. Doyoung stops right between his spread legs, unamused expression carefully put in place as he looks down at Taeyong, who's evidently having way too much fun messing with him.

They stare at each other for a moment, then Taeyong is wiggling his eyebrows up at his his fiancé, lips still closed around the plastic, sipping up the juice way too cutely for the situation. The younger couldn't help the scoff that escaped, but he wiggled his nose in response anyway before turning around—because _fine,_ Doyoung decides, if Taeyong thinks this is funny, he'll simply make it hilarious.

//

Doyoung may have underestimated how hard it would be to give someone a lap dance.

Taeyong has laughed twice (absolutely _not_ the type of hilarious Doyoung was going for), the song is almost over, and his face is burning so uncomfortably under the heat of a stinging humiliated you-know-what, that if he weren't holding himself upright by sheer willpower and his own stubbornness, he would have collapsed at Taeyong's feet in yet another defeat, only serving to inflate his fiancé's ego bigger than it already is concerning their current scoreboard.

(4-7, but who's counting, really?)

Doyoung is at a disadvantage, _clearly_.

He stomps his foot, turning to face Taeyong. "It's because the song is wrong!"

"Baby, no offense, but your stiff back and flat ass have absolutely nothing to do with Beyoncé-"

"Again, stop laughing?! I'm serious, i'm changing the song—and wait, what does my flat ass have to do with anything?!"

"Actually, can we just watch a movie or somethi-"

"You're one to talk about having a flat ass!"

"Baby, you're gonna have to let that hurt go-"

"You _just_ said it-"

"And see how easily I moved on? Now, about the movie-"

"Taeyong, you wanted a lap dance, so I'm _giving_ you a lap dance. Alexa play... Bedroom playlist... and dim the lights."

Taeyong quiets down at least, but raises an eyebrow at Doyoung who has already resolved to ignore his general aura for the rest of this little game—Doyoung turns around, _again_.

Learn Ya by 6lack fills the living room, which is now bathed a warm low glow, the sunset outside their floor to ceiling windows make the picture of their livingspace, music and all, actually help the mood feel a little... sexy. Romantic maybe? Taeyong holds back an inappropriate laugh by busying his mouth with his juicebox.

//

Doyoung inhales deeply, and exhales through his mouth, forcing his body to relax as much as possible. Like this, he felt secure in the fact the song did indeed feel as if it sunk into his his body more easily, so he just went with it.

He starts slowly, barely caring about rhyme or rhythm, trusting it'd catch up with him at some point. He swayed his hips back and forth, ass exaggeratedly pointed towards Taeyong as he did so, rotating his hips purposely slow so Taeyong would get the full view. He wasn't the best dancer, but he knew how to control his body — he winded his hips in those same small circular motions as he lowered himself closer to Taeyong's lap, almost brushing against his crotch before bringing himself back up the same way.

The way he moved, he knew he was finally riding the music, so he got braver, looser, as his hands started trailing the lines of his body, running along the sides of his waist, lifting the fabric only slightly so Taeyong got just a glimpse of his skin before dropping it and moving his hands to his hips, and down behind his thighs as he winded down again, this time purposely making sure his ass pushed down against Taeyong with enough pressure he felt it through his pants.

He gyrated gently in Taeyong's lap, closing his eyes as the music controlled his movements, his back arching to support the angle better, swaying like water over and against Taeyong as he danced for nothing more than the fact he's enjoying it at this point.

It feels good, to dance like this and get lost in the moment. Really, he almost forgot exactly why and who he was doing it for when a hand splayed gently across his hip, squeezing lightly and encouraging him further down with toying pressure. Doyoung looked behind him, eyes locking with Taeyong's hooded gaze, and just the image of all former amusement being wiped off Taeyong's face was enough for Doyoung to count this already as an absolute _win_.

But, he wasn't finished, he had more to show, and since Taeyong had started this game, he was going to sit there and finish it.

Doyoung smiled small as his hand circled around Taeyong's, innocent eyes batting at his fiance as pulled his hand away, setting it back onto the armrest. "Don't you know there's no touching allowed?" He whispered below the music, sultry and just right for Taeyong to barely hear, eyes dropping to Taeyong's mouth when Taeyong's lounge darted out to wet his lips before flitting back up to meet his fiancé's darkening gaze.

"Baby..." Taeyong started, sounding a bit more fucked out than Doyoung could have ever imagined, considering nothing's _even happened._ But hearing it, something burned in his lower belly, every intention to make Taeyong regret underestimate him coming back with renewed force. Their roles had officially reversed.

He licked his own lips, widening his eyes in the way that Taeyong liked to call him " _pretty"_ with, placing a perfect pout on his pink lips as he circles his ass down in a particularly hard grind against Taeyong, lasting just a delicious second before lifting himself up and completely away from any physical contact between them. He thinks he heard Taeyong curse. "Or... do you wanna dance with me, yongie? Wanna show me how it's done?"

He knew he won the moment Taeyong inhaled sharply, the fascinated glint in his big orbs replaced with arousal and a galaxy of ideas and thoughts. He nodded slowly, then put the juicebox down. Yeah—Doyoung smiled fully this time, winking at Taeyong before turning his head away and standing up—an absolute win.

//

Two Feet plays as Taeyong places his on hands on Doyoung's waist like that is where their intended place has been all along.

He stands behind Doyoung, both hands on him, fingers pressing into his skin hard enough that Doyoung thinks he could bruise just from that—the pressure from Taeyong's thumbs pressed into the dimples on his lower back enough to send odd sensations up his spine, making him arch back into Taeyong just as Taeyong pushes his pelvis forward to grind against his ass.

They move like they're really slow dancing to the music, the music closing their eyes and lulling them into a dance that would looks choreographed had it been seen by onlookers. Doyoung pushes back, Taeyong pushes upwards, Doyoung goes left, Taeyong chases so that they never lose contact. It feels good, so fucking good, Doyoung had to bite his bottom lip from keeping a sound, it already being in his head the first one to do so, loses.

Taeyong apparently didn't get the memo, because as one of the hands that were curled around his hips sneaks under his shirt, fingers running along the soft skin of his stomach, pinky pressing the boundary of the band of his pants, he whispers praises against the nape of Doyoung's neck. "So good, doie,"

Doyoung would agree, but he focuses on grabbing Taeyong's hands, holding them away from his body as he grinds a full circle, right on top of the noticeable growing hardon of his fiancé, he hears Taeyong breathe out as he sways his ass down to Taeyong's thighs then back up, putting himself right back where Taeyong wants him, obvious with the way the outline of his cock feels even through his jeans, obvious with the way he makes Doyoung drop their hands, his immediately finding Doyoung ass, one hand smacking it before being back on his hip to pull him and Doyoung flush together again.

Doyoung makes sure his back is pressed against Taeyong's chest before he looks back, Taeyong's eyes already ready to meet his, hooded and cloudy, but so clearly focused on Doyoung and only Doyoung, that rather than feel small under the look, he feels large and way too powerful. This—he spells out the characters of Lee right on top of Taeyong's cock, pressing his forehead against Taeyong's from where he looks over Doyoung's shoulder. "I can't wait to marry you, Taeyong." He whispers, just as he had earlier, and watch Taeyong's eyes grow as big as saucers.— _this has to count for at least two wins._

And then he's being spun around so fast that it's almost disorienting, but Taeyong's lips on his serves to be the only anchor he needs.

It's way too soft and intimate for the mood they've created, but Doyoung sighs into the kiss anyway. Both of Taeyong's hands have found their way to his face, thumbs caressing the soft skin on his cheeks bones, Taeyong's mouth moving against his in way that must spell out "I love you." because that's all he feels right now—entirely loved.

//

...

Okay, so, yeah—Doyoung has definitely missed a step between being humiliated and making Taeyong pay for _doing_ said humiliating, because in no way does Taeyong look as if he's losing _anything_ with his lips curled around Doyoung's nipple, sucking and flicking at the bud with the tip of his tongue, one hand with two fingers up Doyoung's ass, _curling_ against his prostate, pumping in and out of him in a way that makes Doyoung's back arch off the bed, and the other keeping his shirt and sweater vest bunched up under his chin for best access for the assault on his sensitive chest.

He's not sure how Taeyong always manages to do this.

He supposed the slip up happened when that intimate kiss in the livingroom turned into a heated makeout where Taeyong pushed him against the wall right besides his bedroom door, hands falling to his ass and squeezing him in a way that made him keen and moan into Taeyong's so much until the older took pity on him and got him out of the almost offensively restrictive denim, making it easier for Doyoung to feel Taeyong's arousal against his own as his fiancé continued to push into him, licking into his mouth as they kissed way too wet and hungrily for them to be looking any less than starved animals.

He's not even sure when they made inside the bedroom.

But Taeyong's got it figured out, as he always does, taking care of Doyoung even if his own body feels foreign under Taeyong's touch. He feels Taeyong insert another finger, and he wants to be loud in the way he knows Taeyong would go crazy for, but, _but_ —

"Y-yong, I'm like winning today though, right?"

Shut up. It's important.

"Mm?" Taeyong says, not even bothering to stop from where he's now attacking Doyoung's other nipple. Doyoung winks away the tears building from both parts of his body being stimulated, hands in Taeyong's hair pulling a bit roughly and his body twists over their sheets—Taeyong's fingers hits his prostate again making him almost shout curses to the ceiling.

He whimpers through the sensation instead, hands threaded firmly in the soft hair on Taeyong's crown, hips moving so that he's practically fucking himself of Taeyong's fingers, trying to re-create the same movements from the lap dance earlier the best he could with the position he's in.

"The score..." he tries again, managing to find his voice when Taeyong pulls his fingers out. He watches as Taeyong cleans his hand of lube directly on the sheet, a protest on the tip of his tongue but Taeyong has already has him beat with a raised eyebrow, daring him to try. He bites his tongue, shimmying his ass further down the bed, knee brushing up against Taeyong's ribcage as he does so, Taeyong taking the opportunity to kiss it before grabbing the back of his thigh and pushing it back towards Doyoung's chest. "I'm winning today... right?"

He feels Taeyong's cock head at his entrance just as his fiancé smiles at him before leaning down for a kiss. Taeyong swallows every sound Doyoung spills into his mouth as he pushes in, slowly and deep, taking his time, making sure Doyoung felt every inch, felt every bit of the stretch and he sunk into his tight warm hole. Doyoung's jaw went slack, body barely in his control as pleasure shoots through his entire system, eyes tightening with the delicious buildup of that very first feeling of being stuffed full; he moaned like a slut, and Taeyong drunk it down greedily, licking into his mouth, deepening the kiss so that their teeth clacked before pulling away to tilt his head and do the same thing again.

Curses translated into praises against Doyoung's soft lips, Taeyong pulling the swollen pink plushness between his teeth before releasing it to groan as he began to thrust—deep and slow, just like Doyoung liked it, pushing all the way in, then pulling out until only his tip was buried only to sink right back into Doyoung's melting heat until his pelvis was flush with his ass. He could feel Doyoung's cock pressed between the two of them, so he leaned up to make sure it got no friction, enacting an immediate whine of protest from Doyoung.

He looked at Doyoung, took a good look at him and how fucked out he looked — hair a messy halo on the pillows, face flushed with sex rather than any sort of embarrassment , eyes closed as his mouth laid open with his pink tongue poking out from behind his white teeth, chest panting prettily and shallow as he took what Taeyong gave him, mustering what strength he could to roll his hips down to meet him half way, and _God_ , didn't Doyoung make such a pretty fucking picture.

He didn't think about it—he just slipped the same three fingers that had been stretching Doyoung earlier, right onto the flat on his tongue, watching as Doyoung's eyes immediately flew open to meet his. Wide and dilated, curious and excited, Doyoung closed his lips around Taeyong's fingers, and began to suck softly. His left eye winked shut as he tasted himself on Taeyong's fingers, hands that were grabbing onto the pillow behind his head, now finding purchase on Taeyong's forearm as Taeyong dared to push his fingers a little deeper. Doyoung made a little gagging sound.

"So pretty like this, baby, with fingers in your mouth, cock up your ass," Taeyong smiled a he kissed along Doyoung jaw, cheek, corner of his eye, temple—"But yeah, _yeah_ , you're still the winner today. You're completely fucking _wrecking_ me."

Taeyong could laugh at how breathless he sounds, because it's not from all the work he's doing to keep his pace and rhythm up as he fucks into Doyoung, no, he's always been a little powerless when it came to his fiancé—he's truly just that absolutely wrecked from the man underneath him.

Doyoung doesn't seem to have words to respond, so he uses his tongue instead. the eyecontact is back, full force with both eyes black and staring into Taeyong's like a fire trying to light the match in Taeyong's own; well, he could certainly try. Taeyong offers a particularly hard thrust, one that pushes Doyoung up the pillows and the bed a bit, and smirks when Doyoung's eyes roll back because of it. Then he recovers, renewed vigor as he opens his mouth and shoves his tongue right between his index and middle finger, licking the length up, going purposely slow so the distance to the tips of his fingers seems longer than it really is—Taeyong inhales deeply.

Doyoung is smirking before he even does it, innocent eyes back on full display even though the rest of his expression doesn't quite fit the coy budget, especially when he's sucking down Taeyong's index finger like that, moaning around the digit like he's just taken dick down his throat.

But Taeyong watches the show, making sure to remind Doyoung of his place when he perfectly angles his hips so that he thrusts into his g-spot—Doyoung seems to just take that as a challenge, though, as always, a thought that makes Taeyong to laugh, but then Doyoung's lips hit it—his ring.

His three thousand dollar Cartier ring that Doyoung had proposed to him with.

Something in him clicks together and breaks apart all at once. "F- _fuck_ ," Is all he can manage because Doyoung is still looking at him, but the innocence is gone—he's looking at Taeyong like he wants Taeyong to see all of him, right there in that moment, lips around the ring he had given him, tongue hot, wet, against his finger, Doyoung licking around the band, eyes locked on Taeyong for every moment he performs with it. Taeyong can see it, _feel_ it, every letter and character Doyoung spells against the metal that he's grown accustomed to like a second skin: **Mine.**

Taeyong's hips stutter before it's all he can do to fuck into Doyoung with renewed vigor, fingers and hand pulled out from behind teeth and out of Doyoung's grasp so he could use a hand for balance, placed right beside Doyoung's head, a couple strands of his hair getting trapped between his fingers, but it seems to go unnoticed by Doyoung because Taeyong's other hand has wrapped Doyoung's weeping and abandoned cock in a tight fist as he pumps him at the same fast and messy pace he thrusts into Doyoung with.

It's kind of overwhelming, so instead of thinking about it, Taeyong leans down for a bruising kiss, nonsense spilling from his lips, most of it just being a string of ' _i love you's'_ for Doyoung to swallow down incase he forgot in-between the last time he said it. He breaks the kiss, forehead pressed against Doyoung's as he feels his fiancé shudder underneath him, a broken sound between a sob and moan unfurling from his chest as he came, cum spilling into and over Taeyong's ffist as his own orgasm hit in much the same way; his mouth hung open and he panted as he spilled into Doyoung, another "i love you" and his lover's name falling from tongue.

//

"I liked the way you tasted."

They're laying in bed now, freshly showered, damp hair against clean pillows, bodies pressed into fresh warm sheets, Doyoung pressed against his side as Taeyong strokes up and down the dent in his spine, eyes closed as they listened to a playlist full of.... orchestral music. Taeyong was too tired to fight Doyoung about it.

"What, the ring?"

Doyoung giggles, shaking his head as he buried his face deeper into Taeyong's collarbone. "No. The juice."

Taeyong snickered. "The _juice_?" He felt his fiancé nod against him. "Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it, doie."

Doyong hums, and Taeyong assumes that would be the end of the night until Doyoung jolts up hard enough to shock Taeyong wide awake.

He's met with Doyoung's accusing glare.

"Why were you home anyway?! We never got to that part!"

Oh. Oh, yeah.

He smiles up at his fiancé, his eyes disappearing and his teeth on full display. "I got a promotion!" His smile dims slightly, question mark marring his face as he sees Doyoung continue to stare at him with wide eyes, unmoving. "Meaning... more money and less time at the office?" He tries, not really sure what Doyoung's expression meant, but going for broke anyway.

Then Doyoung tackles him, his arms encircling around his shoulder's as he laughed, full bodied, with glee.

"That's so great, baby! Congratulations! _Wait_."

Like tires screeching on asphalt, the smile dropped from Doyoung's face like it was never supposed to be there in the first place and Taeyong immediately burst into laughter. "That was fast-"

"This means another point for you, and I had finally caught up!" He genuinely sounds distraught, which makes it all funnier. Taeyong clutches his stomach as Doyoung gently (kind of) repeatedly whacked him with one of their pillows. "It's not funny! I worked hard for my points today!"

When he calmed down enough to breathe, he pulled Doyoung close by the waist again, pecking his lips once, and then his cheek.

Through the last of his giggles, he made sure to reassure his husband to be. "Yes you did, baby, you earned every single one." He kissed Doyoung's pouty lips. "Too bad you're still a fucking loser, though-"

The pillow to his face was definitely earned as well.

**Author's Note:**

> we hope you guys enjoyed 🥺🥺 ty for reading!!
> 
> [4jaewoo's twt](https://twitter.com/jaewoorideordie) | [filesfolder's twt](https://twitter.com/neovillager)


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